


The Professor's Assistant

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Series: Professor Dean Winchester AU [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Professor Dean Winchester, Reader-Insert, Smut, not canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:06:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader settles into her job as Professor Winchester’s assistant. Part of my Professor Winchester series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Professor's Assistant

You pushed your way to the front of the crowd of people surrounding the board in the student union. Teaching assistant positions were required to be posted today, which accounted for the giant group of people gathered in front of the bulletin boards. You quickly scanned them until you found Dean’s posting. You were surprised to see your name listed next to his. You hadn’t been sure he would give the position to you considering your involvement.

You smiled to yourself, hiking your bag onto your shoulder. You turned from the board, bumping right into Jo.

“Well, you look happy,” she muttered. “What’s up?” Obvious irritation was making her normally pretty face hard and pinched.

You hadn’t spoken to Jo since you’d seen her leave Dean’s classroom a week ago. You knew that she’d tried several times to get in touch with him, though he hadn’t even known it was her until you’d seen the number on his phone and told him it was Jo. He’d ignored every call and then when she started texting him, he’d ignored those as well. You suspected that was the cause of the angry look on her face.

“Hey, Jo,” you said. “Um...I got that teaching assistant -”

“With Dean?” she snapped before you could finish.

“Yes, with Professor Winchester,” you replied, careful to keep your eyes down, fearful you would give your feelings for him away.

“How is the professor?” she asked.

“Okay, I guess,” you shrugged. “How would I know?”

Jo raised one eyebrow and for a split second, you were sure she knew the truth about you and Dean. You held your breath, forcing yourself not to say another word. You didn’t want to come across as defensive or you would give yourself away in a heartbeat.

Fortunately she didn’t say anything else, just turned away and slid into a seat at one of the tables by the door. “He’s not answering my calls or texts,” she pouted. “I thought after last Monday -”

“What happened?” you asked innocently, dropping into the seat across from her. You knew exactly what had happened, you’d walked in on Jo trying to kiss Dean, her hands all over him. But Jo didn’t know that. You were curious as to what she would say.

Jo looked at you for a minute as if she was weighing the pros and cons of telling you anything, then she started talking. “I went to see him a week ago after his last class. After that night at the bar, I thought that we had, you know, a connection, and I thought it was going somewhere, then he just asked me to leave and now he won’t answer any of my calls or texts.”

“He won’t answer your calls, but he gave you his number?” you said. Maybe Dean had lied when he told you he didn’t give Jo his number.

“Not exactly,” Jo replied, looking off into the distance. “I might have taken it off of my brother’s phone.” She smiled, shrugging unapologetically. “Anyway, enough about me and my relationship with the Professor, what’s been going on with you? I haven’t talked to you in almost a week.”

You made your face as neutral as possible. “Just studying and stuff, you know, nothing special.”

“I came by your room on Sunday, but you weren’t there. I thought maybe we could grab coffee or something,” she said, the tone of her voice more than a little whiny.

“Yeah, we’ll have to do that,” you said, glancing at your watch. “But not today. I have to go.” You stood up, pulling your bag onto your shoulder. “I’ll call you,” you mumbled over your shoulder.

You hurried out of the student union and across campus. You only had two hours before your class with Dean started and you wanted to see him for a little while in a non-student capacity.

The halls of the History building were bustling, students milling everywhere. You weaved through the crowds of people, single-mindedly focused on reaching Dean’s room. You opened the door and slipped inside. You could hear voices coming from his open office door. You stopped in the doorway and leaned against the jamb.

Two students were inside, discussing the semester projects Dean had assigned. He was talking patiently with them, answering each of their questions quickly and accurately. He looked up when he caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, smiling widely. You nodded, indicating you would wait.

Once he finished with the students, he ushered them out the door. “I need to meet with my new teaching assistant,” he said. “If you have any other questions, let me know.” He waited until they had left the classroom before pulling you into his arms, pushing his office door closed with his foot.

“Mmm, I missed you,” he said, kissing you tenderly on the cheek.

You laughed, wrapped your arms around his waist and laid your head against his chest. You loved how perfectly you fit into his arms, your head tucked right under his chin. “You just saw me last night,” you said, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“That was hours ago,” he chuckled. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, took your hand and pulled you after him to his desk. He sat in his office chair while you leaned against the desk in front of him.

“You saw the posting?” he asked.

“Of course,” you replied. “I was actually surprised, though. I thought -”

“You thought I’d give it to someone else, didn’t you?” he interrupted.

“I guess,” you shrugged.

Dean picked up a stack of books from his desk and crossed the room to the bookshelves on the far wall. He shelved the books as he spoke.

“You _are_ the most qualified,” he said. “I’m presenting that paper in April on divine languages and their impact on Mythology and Lore and I need a teaching assistant I can trust, who I know will do the work, help with the research, whatever I need. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together and I wanted it to be with you.”

“Whatever you need,” you murmured, pushing away from the desk to join him. He put the last book away as you approached, turning to pull you down onto the couch beside him. He caught your lips in his, the kiss needy and insistent.

“We’re not going to get any work done if this keeps happening,” you whispered.

“You’re right,” Dean said, giving you a wink. “Come on, I’ll fill you in on what you’ll be doing. Out there, in the classroom where we could be interrupted at any minute.”

You laughed as he pulled you to your feet and led you out into the classroom. You spent the rest of time before class started going over your responsibilities as his teaching assistant, though he managed to sneak in a few kisses and soft touches to your shoulder or your back. By the time the first of his students started to arrive for his last class, you were overwhelmed with need for your gorgeous professor and astounded at the amount of work in store for the two of you.

* * *

 

“I can’t, Jo,” you mumbled into your phone. “I’m meeting Professor Winchester in the library. They’re pulling all the books on divine languages for us, even the ones in the protected archives. We only have access to them for a few hours.” You sighed and rolled your eyes. You didn’t have time for this.

You had been working as Dean’s teaching assistant for almost three weeks. Except it was more like a research slash teaching assistant. You’d been teaching several of his freshman classes and spending hours helping him organize his notes and research for the paper he was presenting. You were insanely busy, running on four hours of sleep and countless cups of coffee every day, but you were loving every minute of it. Not only were you learning more than you’d ever imagined about divine languages, but you were getting to spend a lot of time with Dean. It was the perfect combination.

It would be even better if you could just get Jo to stop bugging you. Ever since your conversation in the student union, she’d been hounding you to meet up with her for drinks or coffee, lunch, dinner, anything. You weren’t quite sure why she was so insistent on seeing you; sure you were friends, but you’d never been that close and this was completely out of character for her. You’d been blowing her off for weeks and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to get away with it.

You finally managed to get her off of the phone after promising you’d grab a cup of coffee with her the next morning, hanging up just as you opened the library doors. The librarian glanced up at you, smiling as you made your way to her desk. She directed you to the third floor where Dean was already neck deep in old books, some of them so delicate that you had to wear gloves to touch them.

You closed the door behind you and took a quick look out the large glass windows before leaning over and giving Dean a long, lingering kiss.

“Hi,” he breathed, smiling. “Ready to get dusty?”

“Yeah” you answered. “Where do you want me?”

Dean laughed, raising one eyebrow suggestively and patting the seat next to him. You dropped into the chair next to him and picked up the book he indicated. You dug through your backpack and pulled out your notebook and pen and set to work. You and Dean worked well together, both of you had learned quickly how the other functioned - like the way Dean talked out loud while he worked, not expecting you to answer, or how you could only write with a certain kind of pen and preferred to use wide-ruled paper. It was a system that worked for both of you. You smiled to yourself; it was why you were perfect for each other.

You relaxed into the chair and opened the book on your lap, scribbling notes that you would organize later. Your knee was leaning against Dean’s, his hand on your upper thigh, the warmth of it seeping through your jeans to your skin.

Hours passed and you’d become so absorbed in what you were doing that the knock at the door startled both of you. Dean pulled his hand off of your leg just seconds before it opened and the head librarian stuck her head in.

“Professor Winchester?” she smiled. “The library’s closing. I was wondering if you’re done for the evening?”

Dean eyed the piles of books spread across the tables, then shook his head. “I need a few more hours, Jane, if that’s okay?” he grinned.

The librarian, who had to be at least twenty or more years older than Dean, visibly blushed. “That would be all right, I suppose,” she said. “Lock up the room when you leave and call Carl to let you out. He’ll lock up the building and set the alarms.”

“Thanks, Janie, you’re the best,” Dean nodded and winked.

If possible the librarian blushed a deeper shade of red, opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but closed it quickly, obviously flustered and awestruck by the handsome professor. Just like everybody who laid eyes on him. You watched her through the window as she walked down the long hallway flipping off lights, occasionally glancing back over her shoulder.

“Wow,” you giggled. “You really got under her skin.”

“What?” Dean said innocently. He stood up and moved around the table, sifting through the piles of books on the table, pulling one from the bottom of a stack, holding it loosely in his hand.

“What do you mean, what?” you said. “She was blushing like a schoolgirl, staring at you. You totally made her day.”

Dean looked at you, a bemused expression on his face. He sauntered around the end of the table until he was standing in front of you. You couldn’t help but stare, drinking him in. He was wearing dark jeans and your favorite red plaid shirt, a color that looked amazing on him. He seemed to have no idea the affect he had on people, how his smile lit up a room or how he drew admiring stares everywhere he went, or how many of his students had a crush on him. You felt lucky that he’d chosen you.

He leaned over you, his hands on the arms of the chair, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him. “Maybe I could totally make your day?” he smirked. He didn’t wait for a response, instead he kissed you, a soft, easy kiss that didn’t demand anything of you, but promised so much. When he pulled away, you leaned forward, wanting more.

“We have work to do,” he said quietly. He put the book in his hand in your lap. “Will you find the chapter on divine languages and take notes on it, please?”

You nodded, breathless from the kiss. Dean stood up and returned to searching through the books on the table, already muttering to himself. You stared longingly at the way his shirt stretched tight over the muscles of his back for a minute before turning back to your work. The sooner it was done, the sooner you could spend some quality time with your professor.

When you finally finished taking notes on the chapter Dean had indicated, you pushed yourself out of the chair you felt like you been sitting in for days and placed the book on one of the many stacks on the table. You stretched your aching back, arms above your head, eyes closed. You felt a pair of hands slide around your waist and a bearded chin come to rest on your shoulder. Soft lips kissed your neck.

“All done?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “What’s next?”

“I think we need a break,” Dean murmured. “You’ve been working very hard and I think you deserve to be rewarded.”

His hands slid around your waist to the buttons at the bottom of your shirt and slowly began unbuttoning them, all while his lips moved over your neck, kissing and nipping at the lines of your throat. Once the shirt was completely undone, he pulled it open, his thumbs brushing over the lace bra that covered your nipples, your back involuntarily arching to push into his hands. His lips closed on the spot where your neck met your shoulder, biting and sucking, marking you. His hands traveled down your stomach to the top of your jeans, easily snapping open the button on them so he could slide his hand past the waistband. His fingers slid through your damp folds, teasing you, before pulling away to take hold of your jeans, pushing them down.

He turned you around and leaned you against the edge of the table, his hands splayed over your back, assaulting you with open-mouthed kisses as he moved down your body. He pushed your shirt off your shoulders, caressing your skin, making you tingle everywhere. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his lips warm against your stomach as he took a hold of each ankle, holding your foot up long enough to pull off your shoes, tossing them to the side. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your jeans and slowly pulled them down and off, following their trip down your legs with soft kisses.

Dean looked up at you and smiled, his eyes dark with lust. He pulled one of your knees over his shoulder, nuzzling his nose into the curls at the apex of your thighs, groaning deep in the back of his throat. His tongue flicked out, licking you, circling your clit slowly. You gripped the edge of the table, your thighs already trembling from the feel of Dean’s mouth on you. He slid his hands under your ass, holding you in place as he slipped his tongue deep inside you, jabbing it in and out, rolling over and through your slick folds, fucking into you at a maddening pace, his beard burning deliciously against the inside of your thighs. You gasped loudly when his middle finger slid inside you alongside his tongue, easily finding and rubbing that tiny nub of nerves that sent shots of electricity screaming through your body.

You could feel the tightly wound coil in the pit of your stomach about to snap and you knew you were close. You wound your fingers in his hair, holding him close, your hips lifting off the table to meet his mouth. Your head fell back, Dean’s name a curse as the orgasm slammed into you, every nerve alight with pleasure.

Dean stayed on his knees in front of you, working you through the orgasm, holding you up so you wouldn’t collapse. When the trembling subsided, he pushed himself to his feet, caught your lips in his and kissed you, the salty tang from your juices still wetting his lips.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled, his hips pressing into yours, his cock hard beneath the tight denim of his jeans.

You hurried to undo his jeans, releasing him from the confines of his clothes. You slipped your hand into the waistband, pushing them down and taking him in your hands, stroking him with long, easy strokes. You opened your legs, lifted your hips and guided him to your entrance, moaning as he slid inside you. He braced his hand on the table beside you, his hips pumping slowly. You wrapped both legs around his waist, moving with him.

Dean pressed his mouth to your ear, his beard tickling the side of your face. “Say it, Y/N,” he demanded.

“Professor Winchester,” you gasped. You smiled as Dean moaned against your neck, a quiet ‘yes’ that made your heart skip a beat. You grabbed his ass, urging him forward. “Harder, Professor Winchester, fuck me harder.”

Dean’s hand slid up your back into your hair, tangling his fingers in it, tugging it gently, his mouth wet as he sucked and kissed your neck. He thrust into you over and over, harder and deeper, hitting your sweet spot with every movement. Dean’s body tensed, his hand tightened briefly in your hair as he came, gasping your name.

You held Dean tight as he continued moving, his cock slowly softening inside you. He dropped his head to take your breast in his mouth, sucking the nipple through the lacy fabric of your bra. He slipped his hand between your bodies, massaging your clit until you came with a desperate moan.

Dean held you in his arms, the two of you sharing kisses and gentle caresses. He helped you to your feet and back into your clothes, then he pulled you into a warm hug. He smiled down at you and smoothed your hair back away from your face.

“I need to tell you something, Y/N,” he said quietly.

“Okay,” you murmured. “What is it?”

He rested his forehead against yours. “I’m falling in love with you,” he whispered.

You felt like all of the blood drained out of your body, leaving you lightheaded and dizzy. You opened your mouth but you weren’t sure any words came out. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, before you looked up at him.

“I think I’m falling for you, too,” you said.

* * *

 

You were barely able to drag yourself out of bed the next morning, but you’d promised Jo you’d meet her for coffee. You’d hardly slept, your mind had shifted into overdrive after you and Dean had declared your feelings for each other. Every time you’d been close to sleep, you’d remember Dean’s words and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, or the way your heart sped up at the thought of being in love with Professor Winchester.

You pulled on a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt, brushed your teeth and headed out the door. You checked your phone, smiling when you saw a message from Dean.

“Miss you,” it said.

You smiled to yourself. He was a man of few words, just another thing to love about him. He was all you could think about as you made your way across campus to the student union. You pushed open the door, looking around for Jo. You finally found her at a corner table. You waved to her and made your way to the coffee machines, getting the largest one possible.

“Hey, Jo,” you said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Sorry I’m late, I didn’t sleep well.”

“Really?” Jo smiled. “Busy night?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “I was at the library late with Professor Winchester and I was really wound up when I got back to the dorm. But I’m here now. So, how’ve you been?”

“Eh, I’ve been better,” she shrugged. “But, you must be good.”

“Um, yeah,” you said. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, I think you’re better than fine,” she smirked. She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket, swiped her finger across the screen a few times, then she slid it across the table. “In fact, I think you’re doing absolutely fan-fucking-tastic.” She tapped the table next to the phone.

You picked up Jo’s phone. On the screen was a picture of you, with Dean kneeling in front of you, his head between your legs. Your head was thrown back, your mouth open, your hand holding the back of his Dean’s head. Your hands began to shake and you nearly dropped the phone.

“There’s more,” Jo said.

You glanced at her, then with a trembling finger that didn’t seem to be connected to your body, you swiped the screen. A picture of you with Dean’s cock in your hand, one of him fucking you, another of him as he came, a look of pure ecstasy on his face, another of him helping you to straighten your clothes. You felt a tear slide down your face and then Jo was snatching the phone from your hands and shoving it into her jacket pocket.

“How…” you gulped. Your throat felt thick and you couldn’t swallow.

“The next time _your fucking professor_ wants to eat you out, you might want to make sure the blinds are closed,” Jo snorted.

“I...I don’t understand…” you stuttered.

“I went to the library to look for you,” Jo explained. “I don’t know, some sixth sense told me that something was weird between you two. Looks like I was right.” She straightened the items on the table, putting them at right angles to each other. “Now, the question you’re probably asking yourself is what exactly it is that I want.”

You nodded weakly, a dozen different and horrid things running through your mind. “What _do_ you want Jo?” you sneered.

“Well, now, that’s a great question, one I haven’t really thought about yet,” she said. “I’ll tell you one thing. If these get out, they will destroy Professor Winchester’s career. So, tell me, Y/N, what are those pictures worth to you?”


End file.
